


Half-Full

by MorningBlueRose



Series: Optimism [1]
Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningBlueRose/pseuds/MorningBlueRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is not an optimist, but living in a post-apocalyptic world ain't exactly conducive to it. He's working on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half-Full

 

Nick was never really an optimist.

 

He's used to failure. He's pretty much failed at everything, up until the first night he snuck into Sinner's Eden at fifteen and won his first hand. The dealer shoves a pile of blue chips his way, and Old Samson claps him on the back and says, “You're a natural, kid.” He loses that pile in less than an hour, but it doesn't matter, because Nick is a _natural_ , and he stops caring about school or his drunk mom and deadbeat dad, and then it's all about the Benjamins, baby; and here he is, 35 years old and still drinking, still gambling, and with an alcoholic ex-wife of his own. He signs up for a riverboat down in Georgia, (He even invites Valentina, but she's sick with the flu or some shit) thinking _this is where I make my first million_ , and he goes down to the city to celebrate, pours booze down his throat and passes out somewhere and to this day that's all he remembers.

 

Nick wakes up in his hotel room still in his suit, covered in blood. This has happened before, so Nick is only slightly worried. As long as he gets out of town within the hour, he should be okay. He's just peeled out of his Gucci suit when a very young, very naked blonde with a tight body and an ass that won't quit comes strutting out of the bathroom, a soft dick nesting between a bed of curls. At first Nick thinks he slept with the guy, which has also happened before. Then the other guy flips out and grabs a ax from the floor (that wasn't there last night) and starts screaming, and Nick start to get deja-vu because that's just how fucked up his love life is.

 

“Hey _buddy_ , you wanna maybe put that down? You really wanna kill a guy over- Christ, was I that bad?”

 

Young Hot Blonde lets out a deep breath, and drops his weapon. “Oh thank God. I thought you was one-a them!”

 

Nick frowns. “So I guess a do-over of last night is out of the question?”

 

“Huh?” Country Boy drawls, then scratches his nuts nonchalantly. Charmer. “I just walked in here to use yur shower, and you was lying on the bed not moving, covered in blood and what not, so I just, you know. Helped myself.” He paused. “Hey, you got any clothes I cen borrow?

 

Nick doesn't. His neighbor does however, and as they get dressed Adonis (His real name is Ellis, but you've always been an ass man and seriously,  _goddamn_ ) tells you all about the CEDA and the Green Flu and the Infected and how the whole country's gone to hell. He hands Nick a shotgun, and even though Nick is eying that silenced sub-machine gun, he takes it halfheartedly and reloads.

 

They meet up with a chick named Rochelle and a guy even older than Nick who only goes by Coach. They apparently had just been on the rooftop, and just missed the helicopter, and the only way out is down, and that is when Nick sees one of Them for the first time.

 

The first thing he thinks is,  _Jesus Christ,_ because, fuck, it's a walking corpse. The skin is gray, there's blood smeared all over it's mouth; hell, it's missing a  _fucking_ arm, and it's just stumbling around, jaw distended, moaning like crazy. It's been a long time since you fired a gun into someone's head, but old habits die hard. Nick kills the thing in two shots.

 

But there's more. There's always more. For once, it hits him how many fucking people there are in this country, because for every one he head-shots there's five more climbing out of the woodwork. Everything is done in silence, except for when Ellis tells another fucking story about his dumb-ass friend Keith. Nick rues the day he ever thought the kid was attractive, because two, four, six, eight miles go by and Nick has yet to meet a single other person...alive, anyhow. 

 

The only thing on Nick's mind is killing and sex, and it is driving him up the wall  _crazy._

 

The night's are the worst. It's either his shift to keep guard and he spends the night outside, listening to the silence (it's deafening) waiting for something to come, something to come, something to come. Either that or he goes to sleep for maybe ten minutes, and spends the rest of the night wondering if everyone will be dead when he opens his eyes again.

 

Nick doesn't get much rest.

 

It takes about a month of traveling for someone to notice, and that's only when Nick misses a shot not three feet away, causing Coach to almost be dragged away by something with a freaky fucking tongue. He doesn't miss the next one, but the damage is done.

 

Rochelle is drawing what the thing looked like in her sketchpad, occasionally coughing up from the smoke. “Smoker. Jesus Christ,” She coughs again, a little harder this time. Ellis pats her helpfully on the back. “Thanks sweetie. I'm calling that a smoker.”

 

“Call it whatever you like. Let's just fucking go.”

 

There's a pause of silence that should not be there.

 

“Hey, Nick? You...you okay?”

 

Nick is covered in blood _and_ puke, is exhausted, and there is a fist sized bruise on his shoulder from where he holds the rifle when he shoots. His palms have calluses the size of his eyeballs, and the fingers that don't have calluses won't stop bleeding long enough to clot. He's starving and tired and in pain and horny and scared, and he is _not okay._

 

“Fine,” he manages to say, and lines up another shot. He doesn't miss again.

 

Another month goes by, and Nick thinks this is it. He's tired: of running, of shooting, of hiding and he sneaks outside and stares at his handgun for what feels like a very long time. He can hear someone approach from behind, and slowly, strong hands gently pry the gun away. Ellis sits down next to him, and Nick almost feels peaceful. They talk all night, about Keith and ex-wives and dropping out of high school and regrets and terrible parents and fear, and Nick is listening to Ellis talk about God knows what and he falls asleep and _stays_ asleep for the first time in weeks. He wakes up the next day and he doesn't know if it was the talking or the sleep, but he feels wide-awake and refreshed, like today is gonna be the best day ever.

 

Of course everything goes to hell.

 

They get separated in some corn field and nobody can find Coach. Rochelle is screaming, crying his name out in the rain, but Nick is three feet from her and can barely hear her himself. Ellis gets attacked by a Jockey that leads him straight to a Spitter, and the acid burns his back so bad he passes out from the pain. Nick is limping himself from a Smoker, dragging Rochelle because she won't leave Coach behind, and carrying Ellis on his back because he's unconscious. They make it to an abandoned farm, and Rochelle is screaming, clawing at him like a Witch, begging to go find Coach, but she knows and Nick knows there's no finding him now. Nick is the oldest, so his word is law (He's well aware of the irony) and he gives the coach three days: if Coach doesn't find his way to the house, they have to leave without him. Rochelle hates him, Nick knows, but Coach has three days.

 

Ellis' back is fucked up. Almost all of the skin has peeled off, but thankfully the muscle is spared. Whatever that acid was, it was potent: It immediately ate through the shirt and a good layer of skin. If Nick hadn't been there, but then Nick stops that thought right fucking there because he has enough trouble sleeping at night thank you very much. At night, he keeps an eye out of the Infected and for Coach, and he can hear Ellis sobbing in pain. When Rochelle picks up his shift, Nick walks over to him, listens to the crying and when he can't take it anymore, he gives him the last adrenaline shot they have. Now Ellis is drowsy and exhausted, but he's not in pain anymore. Nick starts wrapping new bandages around him, and Ellis rests his head on Nick's shoulder. Quietly, he whispers:

 

“Sometimes I think we weren't meant to live.”

 

Nick stops his work and looks at Ellis. The kid's face is flushed, from pain or crying Nick doesn't know. The only light in the room is from the moonlight drifting down through the windows and the light reflected in Ellis' eyes. Nick thinks Ellis is lovely. It's not the first time.

 

“I had to kill my momma, you know.” This catches Nick's attention, but he keeps wrapping the bandages and lets Ellis continue. There's a long pause. “I came home from work. I told you about mah job, right? Well, I came home early on account of the sickness and such: Davie was throwing up real bad, and they let me go home early cause momma was sick too.”

 

“I got to the house, and there's people stumbling around, crying and throwing up everywhere. Things got kinda hectic, people started- I don't fucking know; _biting_ people and some shit, like grown ass adults, just fucking biting people- and I ran into the house-” Ellis stops. “I ran in, and-”

 

And with a great colossal breath Ellis just _explodes_ and starts crying and crying and he's getting snot all over Nick's suit and Nick just doesn't _care_ anymore and he leans real close and gives Ellis a small kiss, just a peck on the forehead and that just makes Ellis cry harder so he kisses him just a little bit harder and there's quiet for a while, but at least it's the peaceful kind.

 

Nothing happens for three days. They wait another two, just to be sure, but there is no sign of Coach. They build a grave for him in the back, and write messages in paint for him on the walls of the house. They have to leave; they're out of food and almost out of clean water. Ellis can walk now, but he can't shoot for shit and if he gets pounced on one more time-

 

They cover three more miles than they usually do.

 

They make it to a bridge, and there's a helicopter loading out. Some guy keeps asking over and over on the radio, Are you infected, Have you had contact with the infected, over and over, they ask, and Ellis gives them the truth, and for six horrible fucking seconds, there's quiet, and then the guy on the radio says carriers are to be sent to Sector 5G, and finally, finally, _finally_ rescue comes.

 

They question Nick for hours. They ask him where he's from and if he's got relatives that are susceptible and how he survived and everything else they can fucking think of. They bring up his criminal history, his arrest records, but Nick served his time and he knows that they know they've got bigger fucking problems than an ex-con.

 

Rochelle is taken away to the female camp. Nick and Ellis never see her again.

 

Ellis gets a skin graft for his back, and Nick waits in the hospital, next to a guy who's shaking and some redhead with glasses too big for her face.

 

“They're gonna kill us,” The guy keeps saying, rocking back and forth. “They're gonna kill all of us-”

 

“Stop it,” Red hisses, eying the soldiers that never quite go away. “They wouldn't do that, why would they? They just wanted answers, that's all. All they want is answers. Just be honest-”

 

“ _Fuck_ honesty _”_ Nick mutters, and he's never wanted a cigarette so bad in his life. “And _fuck_ them. They should be fucking worshiping the Immune right now.”

 

The guy gives him an odd look and starts laughing.

 

“Immune? Oh baby, you think you're _immune_? You really think if your blood had the cure they'd keep you here with the rest of the fucking _cattle?_ ”

 

Nick is frozen in his seat. The thought had never even occurred to him, and that scares Nick the most.

 

“No one's _immune_. Not here anyway. They got evacuated first. They all did-”

 

Red covers her ears and starts crying. “Shut up, shut up, _shut up_ -”

 

“We ain't immune. Nobody here is. We're carriers. We got it in our genes, in our _souls_ man. We're gonna pass that shit down. They gotta kill us. They kill us or we kill them-”

 

The guards are looking over, and holding their guns a little too tightly for Nick's taste. “Will you keep your fucking mouth _shut_ and stop giving them ideas-”

 

The man laughs and laughs and laughs and won't stop laughing until two doctors come out and drag him away. A soldier wearing a hazmat suit offers the girl a napkin to wipe her tears away, and when she finishes, they pick the tissue up with tongs, put it in a bucket, and set it ablaze.

 

Nick feels like laughing now too.

 

When Ellis gets out of the hospital, they shack up together. They do everything together now: they eat together, sleep together, fuck together. Nick lies on the bed one night, listening to the curfew sirens and watching Ellis rock himself on top of him, that strong body tensing and covered in a sheer layer of sweat. Ellis is usually on top in some way, because even weeks later a pat on the back still makes him wince. Ellis is panting, so he must be close, and when he's almost there Nick ignores that negative side and just goes for broke.

 

“I love you.” He blurts out, and Ellis pauses, and then smiles, and continues.

 

It wasn't exactly the reaction he was looking for. “I mean it,” and Nick does, with all of his heart, or what's left. “I love you, kid. I do.”

 

“Aw Nick,” pants Ellis, and Nick wonders how someone can smile so sweet while riding a dick the way he does. “I didn't take you for a sap.”

 

“Ellis-”

 

“ _Nick_.” And Ellis clenches so hard Nick swears he feels his dick snapping off and all at once he's gone, and so is Nick, and no one speaks until Ellis catches his breath on top of his chest. I know, he says, and Nick is satisfied. I love you too, and Nick feels a horrible flighty feeling in his chest that feels scarily close to happiness. A hand strokes down his chest and Ellis asks if he's up for Round 2, and while Nick is eager, his body is not, and he falls asleep halfway through and goddamn, Ellis never lets him forget it, calling him 'old man' and giving him a can of prunes as a joke, which would be funny if he weren't so worried that one day Ellis will look around the base and notice that Nick isn't the only guy around anymore.

 

Everything is almost back to normal, and then the letters come. The government sends letters to everyone in Sector 5G, telling them the awful truth: they're stuck there for the time being, until they can find a cure. There are riots and vandalism and fights break out, but the gates are sealed, and that's that.

 

It's two months later when people find out the water has been laced, and everyone is sterile. It's four months in that they realize no one's getting out. It's half a year before everyone has made their peace, but there are still whispers, quiet conversations in the dark alleys, and Nick has always been the type to find some solace in the shadows.

 

Nick opens a bar, and Ellis is a mechanic at the base. They have him working on planes, with the promise that he'll fly one within the year. Nick sees the way they avoid the carriers when they can, even giving them their own bathrooms and cafeterias, and Nick isn't holding his breath, even if the soldiers are around him. The bar does well, because alcohol in a post-apocalyptic world sells like hotcakes, and even if Nick begrudgingly lets the soldiers drink for free, he still makes enough to break a little more than even. Besides, he ain't making all the money off booze, and as long as he gets those bastards drunk enough they'll never notice otherwise. The meetings will just have to be held downstairs.

 

Nick is still not an optimist. It's hard to be one these days, but Ellis is alright, Nick's making a pretty penny, and they're safe, especially because Nick has no intention of staying. Across the bar, a man nods his head, and after pouring another round for those hazmat assholes, Nick nods back.

 

He's still not an optimist, Nick thinks to himself, as his hand rests on a shotgun hidden below the bar, but things are looking pretty damn good.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. Bear with me people.


End file.
